


Come Home

by EmmaArthur



Series: Whumptober 2019 [28]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Because Happy Ending, Brain tumor, Cancer, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, I'm not using the Major Character Death tag, Jesse Manes is a War Crime, M/M, The Author Regrets Everything, Tissue Warning, Whumptober, alien stuff, but it's a close thing, handwavy medical stuff, this is very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 22:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21260354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaArthur/pseuds/EmmaArthur
Summary: Alex is glad that he gets to die in Michael's arms, but he wishes he'd gotten the time to live with him.





	Come Home

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober day 31: **Embrace**.
> 
> Heed the tags and get the tissues out. I rarely make myself cry writing, but this one is _heavy_.
> 
> [brain cancer, discussions of death, grief/mourning]

**1.**

“Genocide is the alien's intent for us during a systematic invasion. They're perfectly designed to kill!” Flint exclaims. “One of them can give you a brain tumor just by touching you!”

“Jim Valenti,” Alex blinks in shock. “Did Dad do that?”

“Subject N38 did,” Flint spits out. “They're coming. The question is whether or not we'll be ready.”

Alex shakes his head. “You're just as committed to the cause as our old man.”

“Dad didn't send you, did he,” Flint realizes. “No, Dad would never send _you_.”

Alex shifts. He sees Flint's hand move toward his holster, to the gun Alex just gave him back, and he prepares to move. It lasts exactly two seconds, until he hears the clicks of more guns cocking. A quick look around him tells him he's surrounded.

How did he miss them coming in?

“I'm sorry, Alex,” Flint says. He truly looks sorry. “We can't let you leave this place with what you know.”

They were here the whole time, Alex realizes. Flint's presence destabilized him and he was careless.

Alex slowly raises his hands, gun held loosely in his right. He's outnumbered one to seven. There's nothing he can do. He just hopes Michael and Kyle will make it out. Oh God, Michael. If they catch him−

He bends down to put the gun on the floor. One of the men−military, all of them, though Flint is in the Army and Alex can spot at least one Marine uniform−comes up to him with handcuffs. Alex doesn't resist.

“Come on,” Flint says.

He leads them to another room, filled with more weapons and equipment. Alex looks almost hungrily at the computers, knowing that he could get all he information he needs right there. But the bulky airman holding his cuffed arm makes him stumble, and he almost falls, barely catching himself. The pain that shoots up Alex's leg brings him straight back to his present situation.

Flint doesn't seem to be aware that Alex is not alone, and things need to stay that way. He needs to keep them away from the surveillance monitors he can see on one side of the room. The only thing Alex can do is give Michael and Kyle time to run, and hope they're not going to play heroes.

He has his doubts about that. There are dozens of aliens kept in cages downstairs, if he's interpreting what he's seeing on the surveillance videos correctly. Michael is never going to leave them here.

Flint is on the phone. Alex can't hear what the other person is saying, but he recognizes the unmistakable patterns of their father's voice. And even if he hadn't, Flint's tone would have told him.

“We captured him breaking into the facility,” Flint explains. “Yes, sir.”

Alex strains to hear his father, but he can't make out the words. Flint suddenly looks hesitant.

“But it's Alex, sir,” he says. “Are you sure?”

Hesitant turns to conflicted. “I would rather not.” Then to resigned. “Very well, sir.”

Flint motions to one of the Airmen to approach, and gives him the phone.

“Master Sergeant?” the man asks. He listens for a moment. “Yes, I will take care of the prisoner, sir. Right away.”

Flint's look at Alex is sorry and sad, but he looks away when Alex makes eye contact. Just from that, Alex knows his fate.

The Airman takes his arm again, roughly, and forces him to walk too fast, too hard. Alex knows there's no point in fighting, but he still struggles against the restraints all the way down to the cells' level, almost falling down the stairs several times.

They stop in front of one of the glass door, and Alex feels his spine go cold at the sight of the old man in it, and the sign on the side of the door. Subject N38.

“Open the door,” the Airman order the guard.

Flint looks away, as they push Alex inside.

**2.**

Kyle waits until Alex has almost reached his house to drop him off to ask. “What happened back there? Before the explosion, I mean. They got you?”

Alex keeps looking straight in front of him at the road. “For a while, yes,” he answers, forcing the words out. “I'm going to need you to book me an MRI.”

“What?” Kyle asks, confused. “Why?”

“I got confirmation that my father was probably the one who killed yours. By way of an alien. Subject N38,” Alex says. “I'm sorry.”

Kyle opens his mouth, even more confused. “We saw him,” he says. He starts saying something else, but Alex can _feel_ the moment he understands.

“No,” Kyle gasps. “They didn't.”

Alex briefly closes his eyes against the tears threatening to fall. “Flint−” he starts, but his throat knots up. He's going to die by his brother's hand, on his father's order. What a family.

“What didn't you say anything?”

“We had more urgent things to take care of. And you and I both know there's nothing to be done.”

Kyle punches the dashboard. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. We're going to find some way. Maybe Liz and I can−”

“No,” Alex says. “We are not telling anyone about this.”

“But why? If we can cure you−”

“But we can't. Project Shepard needs to be shut off, and the alien serial killer, whoever it is, needs to be stopped. It's far more important.”

“More important than your life?” Kyle asks.

“Be realistic, Kyle. Even if you find something, it's going to do what, slow it down a little? You're not going to cure an alien brain tumor in a few weeks. I'd rather spend those weeks destroying my father's work.”

“So you're gonna make me watch you die like my father, and do nothing about it? _And_ keep it to myself? The fuck I'm gonna do that, Alex.”

“You will,” Alex says, looking at his hands now that he has pulled over and doesn't have the excuse of the road to look away. “You know why I need you to. Look, I know it's not fair, and I'm sorry. I wouldn't have told you at all, but I'm going to need someone who can help me get my affairs in order, and take over when I can't keep going.”

“Alex...” The pure anguish of Kyle's voice almost makes Alex break.

“Please, Kyle.”

“Fuck!” Kyle punches the dashboard again.

“Will you do it?”

Kyle sighs. “Yeah. I'll do it. But I  _will_ try to find a cure, and I want it on the record that I don't agree with this.”

“Thank you,” Alex murmurs, relieved. At least one thing he doesn't need to worry about. Kyle will respect his wishes. It's his job, the one he swore to do.

Now he has work to do, before he can let himself collapse.

**3.**

The first few days, Alex feels fine. Physically, at least. Psychologically...it's another matter. He almost goes to Michael, to tell him everything. In a moment's weakness, he thinks he wants to give them a chance, before it's too late.

Then he thinks of what he would feel if it was Michael in his place, and remembers that Michael just lost his mom. He doesn't go. He spends his time at the base and down in the bunker instead, looking through the data they got at Caulfield.

There's a video of Jim Valenti being pushed into Subject N38's cell, and Alex throws up when he watches it. He doesn't know if it's because it's his father's face on the screen, of if the tumor that's already visible on the MRI is starting to affect him.

It's growing inside his head. His own death.

He can't feel it yet.

Alex and Kyle catch up with the Noah problem after the fact, when Liz calls them in panic and they find her hugging Max's dead body, and a very alive Rosa looking on, confused.

Max doesn't stay dead long. The storm is going strong again outside, and Isobel is the one who figures out how to channel the lightning into Max's body. He's been dead longer than a human could have gone pumping blood, but then he's not human. He gets off lightly, just weak and sore for a few weeks.

Hugging Rosa, Alex reminds himself that he's not going to get the same chance, and he wants to cry. He thought he could handle it, die in dignity like he always hoped he would, but this isn't combat. This isn't one gunshot and−gone.

It's weeks, months of waiting for the inevitable end.

It's going to be ugly.

He looks at Kyle across the room, who is looking back at him sadly. Kyle always looks at him sadly, now.

Alex is glad none of the others know.

**4.**

Five days after Rosa is resurrected, Alex walks into the Wild Pony, hoping to drown his sorrows for a while, and he finds Michael kissing Maria behind the counter. It's a punch to the gut.

Only as he backs out of the door, deciding he'll do his drinking at home, Alex realizes that it doesn't feel like he thought he would. Michael is lost to him anyway. He's planning to leave the planet, and Alex won't even live long enough to see him go. He thought his heart would break. But his heart is already in too many pieces to break more.

He can't help the jealousy, but it's a relief too, somehow. If Michael has moved on, if he's happy with Maria, then Alex's death won't destroy him.

He hopes Michael will forget him, once he's gone.

He gets drunk enough that he doesn't remember the rest of the night.

He wakes up to Kyle's knock at his door. Kyle has come like clockwork every morning before his shift, making the two-hour round trip to check on Alex. Alex keeps telling him it's not necessary, but he won't budge on this.

Alex tries to clear his head of the hangover, going to open the door on crutches.

“How long did it take, for your father?” he asks, before he even realizes how insensitive it is. But he needs some kind of time frame. He's avoided thinking about it so far, about how many months or weeks he has−how many days.

Kyle runs a hand down his face. “Alex...” he mutters. “I can't do this right now. Come sit down.”

Alex obeys, but he still pushes. “Please.”

Kyle sighs. “He died March 9th, and the worst of the symptoms started in late February.”

“Time stamp on the video said February 15th,” Alex mutters. “Less than a month.”

“You said yourself that he was in the cell a lot longer than you,” Kyle says. “You may have more time.”

Alex looks up at him. A month. He has a month left to live, maybe two if he's lucky. It's been six days already.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “This has to be so hard on you.”

Kyle laughs humorlessly. “I'm not the one−” _who's dying,_ Alex can fill in, but Kyle's voice breaks as his laugh turns into a sob.

Alex's eyes are dry as he hugs his friend. He feels cold.

**5.**

“Where is he?” Michael almost barrels into Kyle. “Where is Alex?”

Kyle sighs. “I don't think he wants to see anyone,” he says.

“Why? Is it bad? What is wrong with him?” Michael asks, panicking.

Kyle bites his lip. He promised, but he's pretty sure the cat is already out of the bag. Instead of answering, he nods to the door of Alex's hospital room behind them. Michael doesn't even hesitate before he knocks on the door.

“Come in,” Alex says, his stomach feeling like lead. Him collapsing in the middle of the Crashdown Café was bound to come back to his friends' ears, but he'd hoped for more time. It's been twenty one days since Caulfield, and he's been hiding the bouts of nausea and dizziness, the blinding headaches, for over a week now. He's running out of time.

He fiddles with his IV as Michael comes in. The truth is, he'd hoped he'd be able to hide it until the end, to avoid making his friends go through this. But it's unfair to Kyle to ask him to carry this on his own any longer, and the choice has been made for him by his traitorous body anyway.

“Alex! What happened?” Michael asks, coming closer.

Alex sighs. He wants so hard to say it's nothing−he wants it to be true. He doesn't know how to announce it.

“Alex, please. You're scaring me.”

“I had a frontal lobe seizure,” Alex explains. He chokes up on the rest.

“What does that mean?”

“The seizure itself is nothing bad, but it happened because...I have a brain tumor.”

“What?” Michael gapes. He drops into the chair beside Alex's bed. Alex bring his good leg up to his chin and wraps his arms around it, trying to distance himself. He thought this would hurt less if Michael was with Maria, but he heard they broke up a week ago.

“In Caulfield...my brother Flint got to me. He...my father ordered him to take me to Subject N38.”

“No,” Michael shakes his head. “No.”

Alex looks away.

“The tumor's already grown enough for symptoms to appear, so I don't have a lot of time left,” he says, as matter-of-factly as he can.

The look on Michael's face in unbearable. Raw pain, purer that anything Alex has ever felt. He closes his eyes, unable to stand it.

“No, it's not right,” Michael mutters. “You can't−” He chokes.

“I'm sorry,” Alex says.

Michael swallows several times. “How long have you known?”

“Since the day it happened,” Alex answers quietly. “You had so much on your plate.”

“Who else knows?”

“Kyle. Liz found out today, and now you.”

Telling Liz was painful and hard and sad, but it doesn't even start to compare to this. Alex dreaded this moment for a reason.

It takes Michael almost five whole minutes to break down. Alex leans in to allow him to bury his head in his shoulder. He hoped for anger, almost. Rage. He wants Michael to scream at him for not telling him sooner, he wants…

Anything but this.

Because he can't stand Michael's pain. Because this is what drives it home.

He's going to die. Not someday, not maybe, not even probably.

He's going to die, and he'll spend the little time he has left watching his body give out on him.

Feeling cold and numb, he waits until Michael's heart-wrenching sobs start to abate to speak again.

“When I was injured in Iraq, I was certain that I was going to die. The whole building collapsed on me, and I was trapped and pinned down. The whole time, I was thinking about you, and I regretted that we never got to make things right. It feels a bit like...like I was given a little more time, somehow, to get back to you.”

Michael pulls back to look at him, his face streaked with tears.

“Alex−”

“But it also means that I've been living on borrowed time, for almost a year,” Alex continues. “I'm so glad I got the chance to see you again. To learn who you really are, even. That we got a little time together.”

Michael lets out another sob.

“But I'm running out of time,” Alex continues. “And you've moved on. It's a good thing. It will be easier for me to go, if I know that you're going to be okay.”

Michael shakes his head vigorously in denial.

“I haven't moved on,” he says. “I went to Maria because it was easier. It didn't hurt.”

“Loving me hurts?” Alex asks, but he already knows the answer. Of course it does. What has he brought to Michael but pain?

“Not loving you. But being with you. Being without you. We just kept hurting each other. I was running. I wanted to get away from the pain.”

“I know,” Alex murmurs. “It hurt, to see you with Maria, but I understand.”

“You're...knowing that you're dying, it feels like...” Michael makes a gesture when words fail him. “The end of the world. But I've also realized how wrong I was.”

“About what?”

“Loving you is worth all the pain in the world. I didn't realize it sooner, and I'm so sorry.”

Alex chokes up.  “No, Michael, I am sorry. For leaving, every time. And I'm sorry that I'm going to leave you again.”  _Because this time I would have stayed,_ Alex doesn't add. There's no point in making this even more painful for Michael.

M ichael makes a wounded animal sound, hugging Alex again.

“You know what?” he says after a bit. “We're gonna make the most of the time we've got, okay?”

“I'm going to be very sick,” Alex bites his lip.

“And I'm going to take care of you. Starting right now.”

M ichael stands up, untangling his hands from Alex, who lies back into his pillow, exhausted. Michael drie s his face with his sleeve, then gives Alex one more look, heartbreakingly gentle.

“Valenti!” he calls, going to open the door.

“What?” Kyle responds from where Alex assumes he's still sitting with Liz.

“Does he need to be in the hospital?”

Kyle comes over to the door where Alex can see him.  “In here we can at least check on his vitals−”

“Is there anything you can actually do?” Michael asks, his voice rising in irritation.

Kyle makes a grimace, like he hates what he's going to say. “Keep him comfortable?”

“I doubt he'll ever be comfortable in a hospital bed,” Michael shakes his head. “Can I take him home?”

Kyle looks between him and Alex for a moment before he makes a decision. “Yes. I'll come check on you as much as I can. Just let me get you the discharge papers.”

“I'm going to be with you until the end,” Michael says when he's gone. “I promise.”

Alex doesn't know whether to be heartbroken or relieved. He shivers, and Michael snuggles up against him on the bed, warming him up.

**6.**

“Kyle and I looked over your scans,” Liz says a couple of days later, when she and Kyle visit Alex at the cabin. They've been working non-stop since everyone found out. “We're going by the progression of the tumor, and Jim Valenti's medical file to try and predict what will happen.”

“I already know what will happen,” Alex shrugs.

“We wanted to have a more precise time scale. Look, Alex, I still don't get why you didn't tell me earlier, but what Kyle found shows some promise.”

“There's no time to test it, or implement it,” Alex says. He and Kyle have spoken about it many times. “Even with your genius, Liz, I'll be dead long before you manage to make it into a cure.”

“Maybe not,” Liz says. “We have the pods. We can keep you in stasis for a while, long enough enough to figure it out.”

“It could be years. And we don't know that it would even work.”

“Don't you want to try? It may be your only chance.”

“It's a slim one at best. I don't want to give up on what little time I have left for a fool's hope.”

Liz and Kyle exchange a look.  Kyle takes a deep breath.

“Listen,” he says. “I watched my father die. I wasn't there the whole time, but I was there at the end, and I watched him suffer. It was...excruciating.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Alex frowns. “I already know that.”

“Because...you're at the end your rope here. From here on, it will be nothing but pain. Your sight will be the first to go, but the tumor has already metastasized all over your body, on your bones, your organs… The other day was just the first symptom.”

“It wasn't,” Alex shakes his head. “I've been feeling ill and sore for a while.”

Kyle closes his eyes. “It's only going to get worse from there.”

“I know.”

“Do you really want to go through this?” Liz asks.

Alex sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “No, Liz, of course I don't. But I don't have a choice, do I? Not a real one.”

“We could−” Liz hesitates. “Maybe there's a middle ground. By our estimation, you have another two weeks, maybe, before the tumor's damage will be permanent, even if we were to find a cure. If we manage to make real progress during that time, would you let us put you in stasis? And just...I don't know, we can promise you to bring you out after a certain length of time if we don't manage to make a cure if you really want. I understand that you don't want to end up in there forever, I mean, with the whole thing with Rosa… But we can't lose you, Alex. Not like that.”

Alex closes his eyes. _We can't lose you_ isn't helpful. They will. They'll lose him, and they need to be ready. He doesn't believe that Liz can make the cure, not really.

He still wants to hold on to that sliver of hope.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “If you have something promising by then, I'll let you put me in a pod. Just...you have a year. Swear that if you don't have a cure by then, you'll get me out and let me go.”

Liz has tears falling down her face as she murmurs, “I promise. One year. I'll figure it out.”

“No, don't promise that. You know you can't. Promise me that you won't leave me in that pod forever.”

“One year,” she says. “Then we take you out. Whatever the outcome.”

Alex turns to Kyle, who nods solemnly, swallowing back his own tears.

He waits until he's alone to break down.

It's better this way.

**7.**

They have five days of near peace. Alex's pain is managed well enough with strong painkillers, and though he has energy for little else than sleep or rest on the couch, at least he's fairly comfortable.

He discovers that Michael is a pretty good cook, if you give him an actual kitchen. He can't keep much food down anymore, but he tries to eat anyway, just to taste it.

He falls asleep in Michael's arms, or to the sound of Michael's guitar. Alex would love to sing for him, but he doesn't have enough voice left in him. He's glad Michael has his music back. It's something, at least. Maybe Alex will not live to see his father brought to justice, but he'll leave  _something_ right.

The fight has gone out of them, and all that's left is tenderness, tinged with grief. Where their relationship was once fireworks and crash landings, it's now soft and bittersweet. They don't argue. They don't need to communicate much even, which is good as Alex progressively loses the energy to speak. They cuddle up together when Alex is cold, which is most of the time.

There's no fear of the future. Not of  _that_ future, anyway, the one they both dreamed of so much that they pushed each other away because they were terrified of screwing up. It's gone. They only have a few days, and the best they can do is be together.

They both try their best not to think of _after_. Alex has handed the Project Shepard work to Kyle entirely, since he can barely get out of bed anymore, and his affairs are in order, so he tries to let go and live in the moment. Actually live each moment he has left.

Michael still can't imagine a world−a universe−that doesn't have Alex in it. The only muddled thought he has is that he'll finish his spaceship and get away from this planet. Permanently.

But for now, he holds Alex in his arms and watches him sleep, and he tries very hard not to think.

For Michael, the worst moments somehow aren't when Alex cries from the pain in his arms. It's sitting in a corner of the room when Maria and Liz visit Alex, who can barely sit up in bed anymore, and they try to laugh and smile through the tears. It's watching Alex's face fall when he opens an invitation to one of his Air Force friends' wedding with trembling hands, and they both know he won't be alive by the wedding date. It's feeling like he's mourning Alex before he's even dead.

_Dead_ . The nausea settles deeper in Michael's stomach every time he thinks about it−he doesn't think about anything else. At this point, as he watches Alex suffer so much, he almost wishes he was safe and painless in a pod. But he  also  can't imagine living in a world where Alex isn't there.

On the sixth day, Alex wakes up screaming in pain.

Michael immediately jumps up and cups his face in his hands, trying to calm Alex down enough to get pills down him, but nothing helps. Alex feels like his whole body is on fire.

It doesn't start to abate until Alex is hooked to the highest dose of morphine that won't outright kill him, and even then, as he sleeps, his face is lined with pain.

“Either the tumor's reached some nerve center, or the metastases on his spine have gone through the bone and into the nervous system,” Kyle diagnoses. “Either way, there's nothing I can do except try to relieve the pain.”

“Nothing?” Michael asks, desperate.

“No. We may have less time than we thought.”

Alex still won't go into a pod, though. The pain is worth a little more time with Michael. With all of his friends. He's not ready to go.

He doesn't believe, in his heart, that he'll even come out if he does. So he fights for another day.

**8.**

When he opens his eyes to see a large black spot in the middle of his vision, Alex knows  it's the end.  This is what Liz and Kyle told him about, the beginning of the permanent damage. If he doesn't go into a pod now, they probably won't be able to fix him even if they find a cure. He has a decision to make.

I t's been twelve days since he ended up in the hospital, two days off their mark. Liz and Kyle haven't come up with some amazing cure, or even a good idea about one. And Alex has run out of time.

Weakly, he shakes Michael's arm to wake him up.

“Alex?” Michael asks sleepily.

“It's time,” Alex rasps. He's barely been able to speak for days, and no more than one or two words at a time. 

Michael sits up, suddenly wide awake.

“The pod?” he asks.

Alex nods.

They've prepared for this, but it doesn't make it easier. Michael doesn't cry as he gets dressed, and texts everyone. He doesn't cry as he gently removes Alex's IV, hoping the dose of morphine he has in his blood will be enough to tide him over until−

Fuck. He does cry as he picks Alex up, his underweight, frail body limp in his arms. Alex doesn't stop staring at him, his eyes dropping but alert. He cries as he straps Alex in the passenger seat of the car, pulling it back so he's as comfortable as possible.

He can barely see the road, as he drives to the turquoise mines. He steers with one hand, the other squeezing Alex's, and they stay silent.

Michael has already said everything he can say that doesn't make him want to curl up into a little ball.

He carries Alex again, refusing to use his telekinesis, into the pod cave.  The others are already here, Liz ready with the melted silver. Michael puts Alex down on the blanket she's prepared and pulls his head into his lap.

One by one, they come to say goodbye, and it feels far too much like a funeral. Isobel and Max, who know Alex the least, stay politely away, Isobel only squeezing both his and Michael's shoulder with teary eyes. Maria and Liz are openly crying as they hug Alex one last time, and he struggles to say  his  goodbye s .

“We didn't get to spend much time together, mijo” Rosa tells Alex, kissing his brow. “I hope you come back like me and we get to hang out.”

Kyle looks devastated  when Alex makes him promise again, but he obeys. “We'll pull you out in a year at the latest. You can trust me.”

Alex nods, relieved, and smiles up at him. “You were...a good friend,” he rasps out.

Kyle lets out a sob. “You're the best friend I've ever had, Alex,” he murmurs.

Alex hugs him weakly, and he falls back down into Michael's lap when Kyle lets him go, his body even limper, letting out a pained moan. The painkillers are running out.

“'s time,” Alex mouths.

Michael moves him as little as possible while undressing him, and Kyle helps him spread the silver over Alex's body. Liz and Maria watch on, crying in each other's arms.

Lying in Michael's embrace, tears running down both of their faces, Alex tries to imprint that moment into his memories. It's not going to matter. In a few minutes, he'll be in stasis for an indefinite amount of time, and almost no chance of ever coming out of the coma it's going to put him in. His memories will scatter away like they never meant anything.

He's glad that he gets to die in Michael's arms, but he wishes he'd gotten the time to  _live_ with him.

“I love you,” Michael sobs.

“Love...you too,” Alex forces out. “Be...happy.”

M ichael closes his eyes briefly,  and kisses him as softly as he can. His hands don't leave Alex skin until he's inside the pod fully, and his eyes drop closed.

Leaning his brow on the membrane of the pod, he lets the sobs wrack his body as Isobel comes to hold him.

** 9. **

_One year later._

Liz checks her watch before she enters the Wild Pony. It's late already. She didn't see the time pass in her lab. She'll need to make up for all the time she's spent researching things that have little to do with her actual job, but she can do that later. For now, she's on a mission.

Maria is behind the bar, and she beckons her over, nodding to the place where Michael is sitting, his head in one hand, nursing a glass of what looks like Coke with the other. He stopped drinking alcohol months ago, but now he looks like he's in need of a stiff drink or two.

Or of some good news.

“Michael,” Liz puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Liz,” Michael raises his head. The pain in his eyes is nearly unbearable. “We've run out of time. It will be a year tomorrow.”

Liz swallows. “I think I've got it, Michael. I think I've got a cure.”

Michael stares at her for a while, uncomprehendingly. “ You−”

“I'm not 100% certain, it doesn't work like that, but...I think so. I can save Alex.”

“Oh thank God,” Maria murmurs, as Michael gapes in shock. He bites down on his finger, hard, tears already falling from his eyes.

Liz gathers him in her arms before he falls off his stool and hugs him hard.

It's been a long, hard year, for all of them. 

“The compound I've designed will act as a sort of chemotherapy,” Liz explains later, when they've all gathered in the pod cave. Michael is kneeling in front of Alex's pod−the one that used to be his−his head against the membrane, in the same position he's been in so often, but he's listening. “It's based on the same technology that Flint Manes and his team used to make the biochemical bomb.”

Finding the compound where the bomb was stored was their largest breakthrough in the last six months, as well as the official end of Project Shepard. All three aliens agreed that despite its danger to them, the bomb should not be destroyed if it could help Alex.

“It will take several injections and a few months to get rid of the tumor, but the chances that it will work with minimal damage to Alex are good. Unlike chemotherapy, this will be able to target only the alien cells in his body, so it shouldn't be dangerous for his health, though I can't guarantee there won't be side effects.”

“He will live?” is all Michael asks.

“He will.”

“Then do it.”

Liz looks around the room. Kyle is technically Alex's medical proxy, thought those rules don't really apply here. He nods, too, hope shining in his eyes, finally overpowering the guilt and grief that have never left him.  Maria smiles at them, reassuringly.

“Max, I'm going to need you,” Liz says. “I know you can't heal him, but the tumor is technically injuring his brain at this point, and it's a foreign body, so I'm hoping you can keep it at bay long enough for the treatment to start working.”

“I'll do my best,” Max nods.

“We have plenty of acetone,” Isobel adds. 

“Kyle?”

“I'll handle the IV,” Kyle says, coming closer. “You do the initial injection.”

Liz nods, checking the syringe in her hands.

“Michael, we're all ready,” she says.

Michael takes a deep breath, and plunges his silver-stained hand s into the pod. In seconds, he has a naked, warm, sleeping Alex lying in his lap.

“Hey,” he murmurs as Liz and Max buzz around him. Alex blinks his eyes open. “It's time to come home.”

**Author's Note:**

> And this is the end. Both of this story, thankfully on a happy note, and of Whumptober as a whole! It's been quite a ride. I missed three days, so I wrote 28 stories in 31 days, about 70k words in total. I honestly didn't think I had it in me.
> 
> I would love to hear your thoughts on this fic and on this Whumptober series as a whole. I've replied to comments individually, but huge thanks to everyone who read, kudoed or commented, I love you <3
> 
> If you want to chat or see some BTS of my fics, you can always find me on [Tumblr](https://theemmaarthur.tumblr.com/).


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